For days, Ned roamed the wilderness, testing the limits of his newfound strength and growing more comfortable with his improved abilities. He ventured into higher-level zones, battling increasingly dangerous creatures, and steadily leveling up. But despite his efforts, his progress felt sluggish. The thrill of rapid growth had faded, replaced by the grind of diminishing returns.
Frustrated, he plopped down on a mossy rock, staring at the glowing watch on his wrist. He groaned, knowing what he needed to do next.
"That creepy old man might have something useful for me... but why does it have to come with the cringe activation phrase?" Ned muttered to himself. He glanced around to make sure he was utterly alone. Birds chirped in the distance; a rabbit darted across the underbrush. Satisfied, he braced himself for the worst.
With a voice so low even a passing ghost would struggle to hear, he whispered, "Let me in, daddy."
The watch beeped ominously.
"Kill me now," he thought as he felt the pull of unconsciousness. Moments later, he found himself in the familiar white room with the buzzing TV.
---
The TV flickered to life, and the eternally young, awkward guy appeared on the screen.
"Hey, hey! Welcome back! So, funny story—remember that girl I told you about last time? Total crush, right? Turns out, she only sees me as her 'battle brother.' Can you believe that? If she didn't want to marry me, why did she ask for my pen in class? Weird girls man. Anyway—"
Ned's patience evaporated. He glared at the screen, already regretting his decision to return. But just as he was about to tune out, the guy paused dramatically.
"Let's get serious. Today's log is important. This is about the Second Awakening and how to prepare for it properly. You've probably heard the basics—strength, levels, yadda yadda—but nobody talks about the true foundation: talent assimilation."
That got Ned's attention. The young guy leaned closer to the screen, his tone suddenly intense.
"Assimilating your talent means visualizing its essence, syncing it with your body and mana. Before the Second Awakening, this process amplifies your abilities, improves control, and can even evolve your talent. Most people skip it nowadays—lazy bastards—but back in my time, it was essential."
Ned squinted. "Wait... people skip this? Why would they? Is this another one of those 'too dangerous for the masses' things? Why is this shit common in every world TT"
The young guy's image shifted as a new scene played on the screen. In the log, he was seen drawing intricate runes on the ground. The camera zoomed in as he sat cross-legged in the center, meditating. Strange patterns of mana began swirling around him, glowing softly.
Ned's eyes widened. Instinctively, he activated Spectator's Insight, and for the first time, he saw the mana patterns clearly. Though the process was happening on a screen, it felt as if the energy itself was alive, pulsing and shifting with purpose.
"What the hell is this?" Ned thought, awestruck.
The young man on the TV visibly grew stronger, his mana movements smoother and more refined. He controlled the energy with precision, shaping it into forms Ned couldn't even name.
When Ned woke from the session, he wasted no time. In a clearing far from prying eyes, he recreated the runes he'd seen, his hands clumsy but determined. He sat in the center, closed his eyes, and tried to guide his mana into the patterns.
Nothing happened.
He grunted, tried again. Still nothing.
By his fifteenth attempt, sweat was pouring down his face. His mana felt like an unruly dog on a leash, refusing to follow his commands. His head pounded from the strain, and his stomach growled. It was already difficut to follow the mana patterns, now he has to convert the ones from the otherworld to suit to his mana circuit.
"Maybe I need more slime soup for this," he muttered, slumping to the ground.
For days, he toiled. Each morning, he'd redraw the runes, sit cross-legged, and try to replicate the patterns. Each evening, he'd end up face-first in the dirt, muttering curses at the stupid mana system.
One day, after yet another failure, he threw his hands up in frustration. "Why did I ever listen to the creepy TV guy? This is just glorified doodling!"
But deep down, he couldn't give up. The memory of his helplessness against Iver haunted him. That raw, crushing fear of being too weak drove him forward. He refused to remain the same.
On the sixteenth day, something changed.
As he sat in the runic circle, his mana suddenly clicked into place, flowing in harmony with the patterns he visualized. The runes on the ground began to glow faintly, shimmering with an inner light.
A spark danced across his fingers.
His eyes snapped open, wide with disbelief. The runes pulsed in rhythm with his heartbeat, their light casting a warm glow across the clearing.
[System Notification: Congratulations! You have learned a technique to enhance mana control.]
Ned stared at the message, then at his glowing runes. A slow grin spread across his face.
"Take that, old man! I did it!" he shouted to the empty forest.
He jumped to his feet, pumped a fist in the air, and promptly tripped over a root.
For the rest of the two months, Ned set a rigorous schedule. By day, he ventured into dangerous zones to grind levels, pushing himself to reach new heights. By night, he practiced the runic technique, honing his mana control with painstaking precision.
Each day, he grew stronger, his control sharper. He began to experiment, using his newfound skill to enhance his mimicry and observation abilities. He realized that mana wasn't just a resource—it was a tool, a weapon, and a part of himself.
The memories of failure no longer haunted him. Instead, they fueled him, a constant reminder of why he couldn't afford to stop.
As the days passed, Ned felt a growing confidence. For the first time, he believed he might not just survive the final evaluation—he might actually win.
And maybe, just maybe, he could silence the voice in his head that still whispered, "Let me in, daddy."